Fatale
by Like A Thief In The Night
Summary: Olivia Lex knows when it's time to switch ships. She has a knack for picking the winning side. Mercer/F!Thief and Brynjolf/F!Thief. An AU fic where a thief takes the Eyes and Skeleton Key for themselves; and are pursued by a vengeful Mercer Frey.


**Inspired by the Kink Meme. Someone wrote a prompt asking for a thief that betrays both the Thieves Guild _and _Mercer Frey, that they be a sociopath, and that there be thief/Mercer and thief/Brynjolf. Thought I'd try my hand at it. Would love a review! Hope you like.**

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_Olivia Lex: soulless sociopath or misguided innocent? _

That was the Black Horse Courier's headline on the 31st of Last Seed. I was an over-night sensation. You could turn to page two if you wanted to read more about Olivia Lex, and lots of people did I reckon because they wrote more articles about me after that first one. The rest of the front page was taken up with advertisements for linens and also a new apothecary that was opening in the Market District. If you kept up with news in Skyrim you might have been interested to read that it had been a year since some supposed "Dragonborn" had brought a measure of peace to the northern lands; briefly mentioned in the left-hand corner of the newspaper. And on page five was a sighting of some dragon over the Jerall mountains. I've got a copy of it kicking about somewhere in my cell.

Currently, the latest Olivia Lex article is being read all across Cyrodiil. It wonders whether or not I'm innocent, and not a thief at all, which is good. That's the angle I've been trying to go for, pleading my innocence, denying all my charges. I figure, the Thieves Guild or Mercer Frey are only a short time away from me by now, and I hope they turn up just in time that I can point the finger, play the damsel, and then sit back and relax.

The papers call me modest, demure, and sad-eyed, too. See, you trap more flies with honey than vinegar and I've sweet-talking a few of the guards, putting on a soft little voice, averting my gaze, ever since some big old soldier hauled me in. A tip for anyone reading this: Modesty is a virtue, even if it is fake. Especially so, some might say, if faked. Takes a lot of self-control to play a weak-willed little girl, if you aren't one. After all, there are so many made uncomfortable by those who know their worth, and how to use it. Better that they think you naïve, better they see you blush and think you easily manipulated. All the better to manipulate them.

I imagine that the Black Horse Courier is a few days out of date in Bruma by now. Their news is probably one of the older copies. I imagine a sharp-eyed, rangy thief reads it now before he rides off for the city on his new black horse. At least, that's what I would do if I was Mercer Frey. I have a hard time getting into his mindset. Find it hard to think clearly around him; he's always plotting, is Mercer. His eyes strip you bare and you feel all hot, naked and shameful beneath them. I liked that feeling. I used to love it when he told me off, because he'd stalk up and down and I used to watch him as he walked. And he'd talk in this low gravelly voice that'd have me wet within seconds and squirming beneath his accusations, feeling guilty because he's always so angry-sounding; that guilty feeling used to thrill me more than anything. I won't say it was love at first sight, but when I first met Frey I sensed such power, such corruption, that it took my breath away. Now, I'm not so much of a fool as to think he won't come after me. I'm fool enough to think I can use it to my advantage, though; and fool enough to try.

So just in case I really am a fool, and my plan goes wrong, I've begun writing this diary so that everyone knows my story. It'll keep my name living, and a scandal buzzing in all sorts of circles for some time, I think. One of my guards gave me the book and some sticks of charcoal. He's sweet on me. Men always have been. Best put on my modesty, before I offend a reader's delicate sensibilities, though. I wonder if your male or female, reader? It's the females always get so jealous.

The ladies of the Elven Gardens are a jealous lot, and I bet they're all gossiping about my articles over their lunches. Some of them might even remember me, Olivia Lex of Anvil, and I bet they're wondering if they can come and visit. Satisfy their curiosity. I think out in the Waterfront of the Imperial City, there'll be a man- mild-looking to cover up his thieving, his skooma-pushing, his hive of industry- who might read my articles and then sit down to pen a letter to their old friend Delvin Mallory.

The Thieves Guild are languishing but I've got to give them 10/10 for determination. They've probably sent word out to every last contact they've got, looking for me or Mercer, for news of Karliah. I wonder who will come to the City to see what's happened. Brynjolf? Mallory? Vex? No more than that, though. They don't have the resources to stretch themselves so thin.

To be honest, I've been writing my story because I can't stop thinking about It. The Skeleton Key. All it's potential. It keeps me awake at night, thinking about it buried in the Garden of Dareloth where any idiot could dig it up and take it. All it's _potential! _The thought itches all over me and digs inside: makes it very hard for me to concentrate on acting all demure and sweet. All I want to do is kill the fool guards who try and stop me, and slip through the shadows for it. So many doors unlocked, you know? So many secrets to find, and people to con, and treasures to get. But I'm locked up and likely not to go anywhere until the Rock or the Hard Place show up.

And I can't stop thinking about this City. Hundreds of years since the building of this prison, yet its still got all its and its marble splendor. The whole intimidation effect They're going for is only heightened by the scarring, the damage from the Great War. All that and it's still so unchanged. The only thing that seems to change is the prisoners. I keep wondering when they'll change me.

All I've got to keep me entertained is Arcturus Atrio. He's the Junior Head of Information, here in the prison. You'd think it an important job for all the pomp he gives it. He's this thin, tiny little man with a beak of a nose, and think himself important because he's a scholar. Quite sure he wants to fuck me, because he always looks when I lean forwards or cross my legs, even though I'm in rags. Poor bastard is gagging for it. Too bad, I'm not! He's not a prison guard he's just an interviewer. He sits and asks me questions and another man sits behind him and writes down everything that we say, even if I swear at him or say dirty things. I do that deliberately now, because the scribe blushes dark red when I say those things. Arcturus looks like he wants to put me over his knee and smack me for saying all the things I do. Like he'd be able to. He says I "display a contempt for the law that borders on savagery."

And I said that he "displays an obvious case of blue-balls," which made him choke. But he won't do anything about it.

My interview is to be his crowning glory: the reward that lifts him from the dank offices of the Imperial Prison right into the Palace, perhaps even Titus Mede's court. For Olivia Lex has promised to tell all she can of the Thieves Guild, of tantalizing names- Delvin Mallory, Cynric Endell, Mercer Frey, Karliah-in exchange for a better sentence.

I've told him all the basic stuff: that I was born in Cyrodiil, in Anvil. My great-great-great-great-grandfather was Captain of the Imperial Guard, don't you know: something my family liked to remind everyone. My childhood was very boring, despite living so close to the Abacaen sea. I was cloistered away in our home, and kept away from the docks... Until one day I wasn't, and so went another back-story told in whispers over mugs of mead in a quiet corner of the Ragged Flagon.

Woke up with the thought last night that the Thieves Guild wouldn't bother with me; that they'd just send a killer in the night to make sure I didn't talk. Kept me up for ages.

Can't stop thinking about Mercer Frey and what he's going to do to me.

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**I intend to make chapters longer. This is more just set-up than anything plot-related. Still, reviews would be ADORED~**


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